


You're Forgiven

by DM500 (DapperMuffin)



Series: It'll All Turn Out Okay (D:BH) [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Hank Anderson and Connor Relationship, Conan is Cyberlife tower Connor, Conan loves space, Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor wears glasses because it's adorable, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Family Fluff, Gen, Heartfelt Talks, Injury, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), RK Brothers, Sad Conan, Siblings, brief Connor angst, emotional floundering, it's okay guys it's almost all happy this time, just some family fluff, my boys deserve happiness, soft Conan, sorry I'm bad at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DapperMuffin/pseuds/DM500
Summary: Connor gets a weird call from North that the androids of New Jericho have stumbled across another RK800... and he's injured.But, Connor was sure he was the last of his model...





	You're Forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> This was brought on by me bingereading all of ifdragonscouldtalk's "DBH Brother Whump AU" and wanting some more RK brothers content. (Anybody have any recommendations on AO3 stories with the three of them as brothers?)
> 
> Sidenote, so you know how I headcanon Connor and Nines dressing:  
> Connor's hair is fully curly by this point, but he keeps most of it under a beanie so that only the front flops out. He wears black-rimmed glasses because he likes the aesthetic, and his shirts are nearly all pastel or semi-pastel sweaters because he likes soft things.  
> Nines, for whatever reason, ended up wearing t-shirts in varying shades of black or gray underneath red or orange flannel button-ups that he leaves open at the front, and skinny jeans. (My Reed900 trash mind likes to think that Gavin had a flannel shirt for whatever reason, Nines needed a change of clothes, and he told him to wear that, and Nines ended up liking it or something, but you can think of it however you want, because Hank & Connor and Nines & Gavin are ambiguous in this one. And I didn't say it outright, but at this point, Nines is living in Gavin's apartment alongside Gavin.)
> 
> Another thing: I'm putting this in the same universe as "Home" and "I'm Not Going Anywhere," so that's a series now.

Connor had long since stopped hoping that there were any other RK800s; at least, any like him. He’d seen the empty bodies, eyes closed, perfectly still, waiting for him to die and be transferred over, and he knew too well they were all just shells and would never be proper androids, but then, there had been the one who’d threatened Hank at Cyberlife Tower. While he was dead now, Connor had no explanation for the fact that there  _ had _ been a second Connor there that day… perhaps one or two of the others had woken up the same way?

 

Looking down at his book, he was surprised to discover that he’d been reading the same couple of lines over and over. Deciding it was probably better to set it aside for now, Connor grabbed the piece of paper next to him that he used as a bookmark, used it to mark his page, and closed the book, which he left on the arm of the couch. One hand absentmindedly stroked Sumo, who was curled up next to him.

 

[ INCOMING TRANSMISSION ]

WR400, Designation: “North Browne”

 

[ ACCEPT ? ]

**> Yes** > No

 

“What is it, North?” Of the four leaders of Jericho, it was usually Markus or Simon who chose to contact him, but almost never North, and Connor wondered about the nature of the contact.

 

_ Connor, you need to come down here. _ She sounded almost tired.  _ There’s… well, there’s another you here. I mean, I know you’re there, obviously, because I’m talking to you, but… there’s some other RK800. We found him and he’s injured. We’ve managed to get him into New Jericho, but he’s refusing to let himself get fixed until you come. _

 

A small surge of… something went through Connor’s body. “Another RK800?” he inquired sharply. “Do you know anything about him, his name? Something?”

 

North seemed to think for a moment.  _ He called himself “the 60th one,” whatever that means. _

 

_ Connor-60, _ he realized.  _ The Connor from Cyberlife Tower! _ But wait… wasn’t he dead? Hadn’t Hank shot him between the eyes? ...that could wait, Connor would just ask that himself.

 

“Alright, I’ll be right over. I’m just going to get Nines, and then we’re on our way.” The communication ended, and Connor stood, pushing his glasses further up his nose. Sumo gave a soft whine, lifting his head to look.

 

Connor gave him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, boy, I have to go somewhere.” He quickly scratched the lazy Saint Bernard behind the ears.

 

He checked his pockets to make sure he had his keys before placing a hand on the doorknob, but before he could open it, he heard Hank behind him.

 

“Where’re you goin’?” the grizzled old detective asked.

 

“Oh, sorry.” Connor recalled that he hadn’t told Hank he was going out. “I’m needed at Jericho, but hopefully it won’t take long. I should be back soon,” he reassured his partner.

 

Hank’s gaze softened. “Just be careful, don’t want you getting hurt.”

 

“I’ll do my best, but what can I say? Trouble seems to find me.” He gave a quick wink, and with that, he turned the doorknob, stepping out of the house.

  
  
  


That’s how Connor found himself riding in an automatic car, destination: New Jericho. Well, no, it wasn’t called that, not officially, not yet; but that was how everyone referred to it nonetheless.

 

“I’d better tell Nines,” Connor muttered to himself. Ever since deviation, he’d been starting to do more and more of that. He wasn’t sure if it aided his processors to speak his thoughts aloud, but as long as it wasn’t detrimental, he saw no reason to stop.

 

[ ESTABLISH CONNECTION ? ]

RK900 #313 248 317 - 61, Designations: “Richard Riley,” “Nines”

 

**> Yes** > No

 

[ ESTABLISHING CONNECTION … … … ]

 

[ CONNECTION ESTABLISHED ]

 

“Hello, Nines.”

 

_ Connor? Is something wrong? _ his brother was quick to ask.

 

“Not exactly, but something’s come up at Jericho. They asked for me to come, but I think this concerns you, too.”

 

_ What  _ is _ it, exactly? _ Nines seemed suspicious with maybe a tinge of concern.

 

“Well, another RK800’s shown up. RK800 #313 248 317 - 60, to be exact.” He heard an inhale on the other end.

 

_ The one who was going to shoot Hank if you didn’t cooperate? _

 

“Yes, that one. It seems that he’s injured, but apparently, he won’t let anyone fix him until I get there.”

 

_ Oh? _ Connor could practically hear Nines’ raised eyebrows in the way he said that one simple word.

 

“I’m on my way right now, but I believe you should be there too,” notified Connor.

 

_ If you insist, I’ll get going too. I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes behind you. _ Nines severed their connection, and Connor turned his eyes to the road passing on either side of the vehicle.  
  
  


 

Sure enough, Connor only had to wait three minutes and forty-seven seconds outside the main gate before another car pulled up and Nines got out, the car pulling away just as swiftly as it had arrived.

 

New Jericho was a camp, of sorts, for the long-term residence of androids who weren’t currently living anywhere else. It was also where the four leaders sometimes lived, as they shifted between here and the home of Carl Manfred. Each android could live alone, or choose to share an “apartment” of sorts. There were many single-level buildings in rows and several buildings had a second story being built on top by those androids built for construction or simply those who wished to help.

 

Connor sent a quick message to North, which, being such a simple kind of android communication, didn’t require the process that transmissions did.  _ We’re here. _ In a few minutes, North was there, unlocking the gate to let the RK models through before locking it again. She gave a nod to the TR400 stationed there before leading them towards the left side of the camp.

 

They stopped between two buildings, one of which appeared to be a kind of medical center. If Connor were being quite honest, he really hadn’t been there enough. Maybe he should visit.

 

North gestured to the door on the building opposite the medical center. “He’s in there, go take a look.” Connor went first, Nines following just behind him, and North last.

 

“He’s not going to shut down or anything,” she assured. “Despite how much thirium is all over everything.”

 

It really  _ did _ look bad, but Connor trusted North’s judgment (on this, at least), and he supposed it must just look worse than it actually was.  Connor-60 had scrapped his Cyberlife-issue jacket, just like he and Nines had, swapping it out for a sweatshirt that looked to be just slightly overlarge, but unlike Connor and Nines, Connor-60 had kept his LED. The origin of the thirium on his face was a cut above his eye, just below said LED and the thirium on his torso was probably coming from the large gash across his chest. He was currently sitting on the floor, arms curled around his legs, pulling his knees up to his chest.

 

Feeling one of Nines’ hands on his shoulder, Connor glanced back at the taller android.

 

Nines smiled affirmingly. “Go talk to him.”  _ But be careful. _ Connor could hear the unsaid warning in his head.

 

He approached slowly, proceeding a little cautiously to kneel in front of his doppelganger, and Connor-60’s eyes lit up.

 

“Connor!” The other Connor seemed relieved to see him, loosening his tight grip on his knees before dropping his arms completely.

 

“Hello,” began Connor, uncertain as to how he should talk to this android who had his face but was so definitely  _ not _ him. Seeing no reaction in 60’s face, he continued, “I’m Connor, but you obviously already know that. You’re Connor-60, correct?”

 

“That’s right. Actually, it’s Conan now,” was the muttered response to his question, and Connor shut his eyes as he cataloged this new scrap of information.

 

“Now, I have a few questions. I saw Hank shoot you in the head. How are you here?” He felt his curiosity start to get ahead of him, and did his best to temporarily quell that feeling.

 

“Hank?” Confusion was clear in Conan’s eyes. “You call the Lieutenant by his first name?”

 

Connor was a little taken aback by how much younger Conan seemed now than when he had been in the Tower, but emotions  _ do _ change how you act and speak, so perhaps that shouldn’t have been so surprising, as the Conan in front of him couldn’t be anything  _ but _ a deviant.

 

“Yes, we’re very good friends,” he answered softly.

 

Conan blinked. “Well, when we die our minds are uploaded, and I hadn't deviated then, so I was immediately downloaded into another Connor. I think the other bodies have been destroyed now, actually.”

 

Conan suddenly stiffened slightly, eyes on something behind Connor, and when Connor looked, he found that Nines was now standing just behind him.

 

“It's okay, Conan,” he smiled. “This is Nines, he isn't going to hurt you. He looks intimidating, but he's kind.” Nines offered a smile of his own, and Conan relaxed again.

 

“I'm so sorry,” blurted Conan.

 

“What for?” asked Connor, puzzled by the sudden outburst.

 

“I threatened Lieutenant Anderson, I held a gun to his head, I  _ shot _ you, and then I tried to get the Lieutenant to think I was you so he'd kill you.” Conan's eyes were wet with tears.

 

Connor put a gentle hand on the other RK800’s shoulder. “It's okay, I forgive you! I don't hold it against you. We all did awful things before deviating.”

 

“But I threatened to shoot your friend and I did shoot you!” Conan gestured wildly, yet more drops of saline accumulating in his large brown eyes.

 

“Conan, I killed someone by shooting him in the head with a pistol I wasn't even supposed to have. He was just begging for his life, and I shot him He was an android, he was going to be replaced, but he'd deviated and he cared about his owners, and he knew he'd be thrown out. He killed one of his owners by accident, sure, but he didn't deserve to die.” He swallowed. He'd never told this story to anyone but Hank; even Nines hadn't known until now. “So I think I've done worse than you.”

 

Conan's eyes were wide with surprise, but at least they no longer held tears, and his mouth hung slightly open.

 

“It was a long time ago, but I still regret every minute. I lied to him, told him he'd get to leave alive, but he didn't, and it's my fault.” A tired sigh issued from Connor's mouth. “But I still have people who care for me, accept me. They know my past, but they still forgive me, they know I was only following my programming. And so were you, and it wasn't your fault, Conan.”

 

Connor gave his head a quick shake, using it as a physical reminder to move on and pull himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry for the story, I didn't mean to talk so much. Hey, Conan, Nines and I consider each other our brother because we're similar models. How about it? Would you like to be our brother too?”

 

The poor RK800 was astonished by now. “I'd… I'd really like that, I would.”

 

“Good.” Conan was genuinely smiling now, and Connor knew he was mirroring the expression with one of his own. He got to his feet, offering a hand to help Conan up, but instead of letting go once they were on their feet, Connor kept his grip on his hand firm but still soft. “Now let's get you fixed and cleaned up.”

 

 

Conan hissed through his teeth as one of the medical androids wiped at the thirium above his eye, and Connor searched for something to distract him.

 

“So, Conan, what do you like?”

 

Sure enough, the android’s attention span was as similar to a child’s as his mannerisms were. Conan’s warm eyes lit up again. “I love space,” he replied, voice sounding rather dreamy, and his eyes were staring out into nothing now as he was probably envisioning the stars in his mind.

 

“Tell me about it.” Connor was already very attached to the surprisingly juvenile android, and he thought it was cute how his little brother had found something he was so enchanted by.

 

“It’s just such a vast blanket of sky with a lot of twinkling stars sprinkled around like freckles. There’s so much to explore, because, even now in 2039, we still don’t know all that much about it.”

 

“I heard that NASA was hoping to hire a few android astronauts, maybe you can be one of the first,” Connor suggested, and Conan looked at him, amazed by the idea of himself getting to be an astronaut.

 

“Really? Me? I’d love that…”

 

Connor frowned as something occurred to him.

 

“Conan, how did you get hurt like this?” he questioned.

 

“It was just an accident,” 60 said, his face the picture of innocence, and Connor understood that he wouldn’t get any more out of him on it.

 

“Oh, alright. Well, do you have somewhere to go back to? A place you can call home?” questioned Connor, leaning in somewhat.

 

Conan’s face dropped. “No, I don’t.” He looked so disappointed, and Connor found himself speaking before he’d truly thought through what he was going to say next.

 

“You can come with me, then! I live with Hank now, and he might be wary at first, but I’m sure that once I explain, he’ll warm up to you. After all, he  _ loves _ me, imagine how he’d react to living with  _ two _ of me?” He was relieved to see Conan look less disheartened; it seems that even in that respect, Conan had the kind of utter crestfallenness that a kid has, the kind that makes you instantly feel guilty for putting that expression on his face. “And you can meet Sumo.”

 

“I want to pet Sumo,” mumbled Conan, and Connor stifled a laugh as he ruffled the other’s hair.

 

“You’ll get to pet Sumo, I promise.”

 

Meanwhile, several feet away, Nines was watching this exchange, and he realized that maybe this would be good for Connor. It might help Connor to have another little brother, this time one who maybe didn’t have it all figured out like he had, one who Connor could teach what he’d learned from humanity in the year since he’d deviated. And maybe Nines too had already grown attached to the childlike deviant in the short time he’d known him, but he’d never admit it for anything. Still, Nines couldn’t stop the small smile spreading across his face as he watched Connor ruffling Conan’s hair, which his mind had told him was called “precious.”

**Author's Note:**

> In the first draft of this, Conan was more suspicious of Connor trying to be nice to him, he was more mature, and he didn't end up on the verge of tears, but as I edited and rewrote parts he acted a lot younger for some reason. Ah well, do with this what you will.


End file.
